My Muse
by Irhaboggle
Summary: Emily has inspired Thompson more than she could ever know and even after their romance fails, Emily remains present in Thompson's head and heart. Somehow, he will win her back. Emily, meanwhile, will not wait for him, for she has much work to do on her own, but when he returns, she will be ready to welcome him home.


Emily laughed as she teased Thompson, stealing his props and costumes to wear for herself as she posed dramatically for his camera. She stole his coat and hat, pretending to be a proper English gentleman.

"Emily! Be serious!" the young photographer pretended to complain, but he was smiling just as broadly as the playful Emily was.

"Now good sah', don't but'er me crumpets like 'at!" Emily pretended to complain her best cockney accent.

"What does that even mean?" Thompson laughed.

"No idea," Emily laughed with him, voice returning to normal. She finally removed Thompson's hat and coat from her body, setting them back down beside all of his other props and camera equipment.

"Anyway, what kind of picture were you hoping to capture today?" the redheaded inmate asked her dearest male companion.

"Hmmm," he rubbed his chin. "Well, since you are my muse, I was thinking about letting you try out some poses you like, and then I can just use one of those! You always have such beautiful pictures!" he said and Emily blushed in reply.

"If you really insist on letting me take creative license," she began.

"I'll still step in here and there," Thompson replied.

"Then I'd be happy to help," Emily finished. "But you'll have to accept what I do as what I do," she warned.

"Of course, my muse, go ahead," Thompson gestured for Emily to do her best, so she trotted happily back over to the place where she'd tossed Thompson's coat and hat. Thompson gave her a withering look.

"I get full creative control right now!" she warned him playfully as he pretended to cry out in despair. She was as fiery as her hair.

"I meant for you to be serious!" he cried.

"What if I am being serious?" Emily replied, not being serious at all, but Thompson actually took her at her word and considered it.

Hmmm, it would definitely be a new and intriguing photograph, to have a woman in men's clothes. But perhaps there could be some artistic value to the idea. He could say it was symbolic of the friendship between himself and Emily in that they felt comfortable enough to share jackets. By proxy, the picture would represent the larger friendship between males and females that this asylum was meant to value. This whole place was an institution run by men for women, what could be more charitable across the sexes than that? And what better way than to display it in the playful manner Emily was presenting to him? What better way to represent the friendship between the male and female sexes than to show that the female felt comfortable enough to horse around with the male and do silly, innocent little things like steal his coat and hat? It was cross-dressing, yes, but of a strictly innocent nature. There wasn't supposed to be any innuendo in this photo at all. Thompson's eyes lit up as, once again, his muse inspired him. He would take this picture and this would be the one he would use! His boss might think it was strange, but if he could explain the symbolism behind it, the photo could become a masterpiece!

Emily was surprised that he actually seemed to be listening to what had been a mere joke on her part, but as he began to eagerly direct her here and there to finalize the shot, she felt a rush of pleasure course through her veins. There was something so incredibly wonderful about having a playful idea being validated, accepted and welcomed with enthusiasm, especially by a friend. It made Emily feel warm and fuzzy inside that Thompson had not only taken her idea seriously, but that he had actually somehow seen some value in it beyond a simple joke. It made her feel good for her to think that he thought so highly of her that he even took her jokes seriously. She was sure her face was as red as her hair now.

But the photoshoot came to a very unpleasant end.

"W14A! You've gone over your allotted time to be here! Report back to-" a doctor barged in on Emily and Thompson just in time to see the two of them waltzing around the room like buffoons. The moment Emily and Thompson caught sight of his outraged face, Emily dropped Thompson's hands as though they were burning coals, but she stepped protectively in front of him. It was a small, subtle change, but she stood in front of him with both her arms slightly extended as though she was going to shield him.

** "**What in God's name-?" the doctor sounded hoarse, as though what he had witnessed had been the scandal of the century.

"I am afraid this is all my fault, my good sir," Thompson spoke up bravely, then he brushed right past Emily's attempts to protect him and he missed feeling her tug at his sleeve, silently begging him to reign in and calm back down before he got in trouble too. Emily didn't think she could bear it if anything were to happen to him, especially not if it was because of her. She could handle her own punishment, which she was sure she would receive after today's little stunt, but what about Thompson? But as always, Thompson was ignorant to the subtle messages she was trying to send him and he, quite boisterously, took the blame for what the doctor had just walked in on.

"We were discussing the kind of photos I wanted to take and I mentioned the idea of dancing to Emily because I know you have a great performing arts group in your asylum and I was trying to show her some of the dances I knew, personally," he said as he approached the doctor.

"You aren't supposed to discuss with your subjects, you are just supposed to take their pictures!" the doctor snarled in reply, cutting Thompson off and destroying his jovial mood. Thompson wilted as the severity of the situation finally sank into his head. Behind him, Emily fought hard not to hide her face behind her hands in embarrassment and horror.

"Remember, son, you are hired to do your job, not fraternize with the inmates!" the doctor growled threateningly.

"But I wasn't frat-" Thompson really was an idiot to try and defend his position, no matter how just it would be for him to do.

"You aren't supposed to talk to the girls and you most certainly aren't supposed to dance with them! They are not conversation pieces for you! You're supposed to do the work yourself! You have a job to do! You are here to take their pictures and that is all! Anything else is what we are not paying you to do and if you keep it up, I will find a better and more professional man to take your place, got it, _boy_?" the doctor bellowed, cutting Thompson off again. He proceeded to call Thompson stupid, lazy, perverted, unprofessional and inept, and threatened to have him fired.

"But they have provided marvelously inspiration in the past and Emily is my muse," Thompson began. "Your girls aren't stupid-"

"YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!" the doctor thundered again. "Why would you ever trust a girl's word for anything, let alone a mad one?!" and at last, Thompson seemed to remember where he was and he wilted again, dropping his eyes submissively. The doctor was still outraged beyond words, but seeing that this idiot boy wasn't going to argue anymore calmed him down at least a little.

"I trust you can find your way out?" he growled dangerously.

"Yes sir," Thompson replied, then he quietly packed his things and left as fast as he could. Emily watched him go miserably, wishing that they could've hugged goodbye, and wishing that she could've protected him better. If anything happened to him now, it would be all her fault. She didn't think she could bear the idea. She could only shoot Thompson one sad, helpless, apologetic glance before the doctor grabbed her arm and began to drag her away, already snarling threats and grim promises of punishment to her as they left the room, but she didn't hear a word he said. Her only thoughts were of the man she was leaving behind, Thompson.

The two managed to share one last glance that day. As Emily was being led back to her cell, she spotted Thompson heading out the asylum door. He saw her as well and met her eyes unhappily, but she silently mouthed for him to stop.

"Don't do anything!" she mouthed. "Just go!" and although it was clear that Thompson was loath to do so, he knew Emily was right, so he left the asylum at once without another look back. Emily felt her heart break a little as he left, but she relaxed at once, knowing that at least he was out of harm's way for now. Now, Emily had to focus on her own problems...

But by a miracle, Thompson was not fired from his job and still had consent to return to the asylum. Apparently, although his boss had been none too pleased to hear about Thompson's "scandal", his photos were good enough that the boss didn't want to fire him. Relieved, Thompson had practically skipped back into the asylum to tell Emily the glorious news. She had been just as delighted, though she was far more cautious, still trying desperately to keep him safe. She wished that he would understand just how dangerous it was, their friendship, but Thompson seemed to think that she was worth the risk and, knowing that, how could Emily do anything but reciprocate?

"I'm glad you're here with me!" Thompson grinned as he opened his arms for a big hug.

"I'm glad you're glad," Emily replied with a smile that was both sad and happy at the same time. Then, despite her previous reserves, she finally caved and jumped right into Thompson's arms, hugging him just as hard and reveling in the scent and feel of his warm body against hers. She was worried that a doctor might spring up from the shadows and catch them red-handed, but Thompson was too irresistible to remain on a professional basis with. There was no way she couldn't hug him, so she decided it was worth the risk, but they would have to be more careful from now on...

But as life in the Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls got harder, their friendship was pushed to the limits and finally, it was broken entirely. Strong as Emily and Thompson both were, as individuals and a couple, the doctors were always stronger. It was the very first lesson Emily had ever learned while in the asylum and it rang true for her every single day. Including the one Thompson was taken away from her.

"I've got to get you away from here! Oh, Emily, I've been so stupid! I saw what our pictures were really being used for! You've got to get away from this place! Please! Come on! Get up! Run away!" on that dark and fateful day, Emily and Thompson both finally realized what the inmate photos were being used for: a prostitution ring.

When Thompson found out, he made it his top priority to try and free Emily from the asylum, but she was so shocked to realize what Thompson had done to her that she refused to listen to him. It didn't matter if he had been just as ignorant to the truth as she had, he was still technically part of the prostitution ring and he had sentenced countless girls to horrible fates through his pictures. Knowingly or not, he had killed Emily and her sisters and Emily couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Please, come with me!" Thompson begged, but Emily refused. Even if she'd forgiven him, she was still unwilling to leave her sisters.

"And what of the rest of us?" she demanded sadly, refusing to budge. Thompson could've easily carried her out the door, but he refused to manhandle her and instead continued to try and talk her down. Back and forth they went, Thompson begging Emily to come away with him while Emily refused, citing her loyalty to her fellow inmates above dreams of what they might've had.

At last, the doctors arrived. Knowing that Thompson knew the truth, they were finally ready and willing to take him out. They went for Emily first, but Thompson tried his best to protect her, shoving himself between Emily and her would-be captors.

"I love you, Emily!" he cried as he tried to protect Emily and fend off her attackers, but he was outnumber from the start and Emily's own emotional numbness prevented her from doing anything other than watching as the doctors quickly subdued him and dragged him away.

It only took one small cloth of chloroform and he became a rag doll that the doctors easily lifted up and carried right out the door. It was almost like he'd never even been there at all and Emily could only watch, unseeing, as he was carried away. Not dragged away, because that implied resistance and he was no longer capable of such things. He was carried away, limp and lifeless, like a babe. Carried away because he was unable to fight any longer. He was gone in a flash, not a single sound accompanying his exit. It was too quiet. It was almost unreal.

But Emily was only half aware of everything, the other half of her mind still locked in a stupor as Thompson's confession of love echoed round and round her mind. And in the very back of her head, she realized something. For once, it had been Thompson who was carried away from her instead of the other way around. She would've laughed at the irony, had her chest not felt like lead. She knew she would never see him again and, numb though she was, she could already feel the beginning stages of grief rising up from the very depths of her soul as she lost him forever...

But even though Emily lost Thompson, she did not lose everything. Instead, the in the same way she used to be his muse, he almost became her own in the days to follow. Of course, she had mourned him bitterly, but there finally came a time to wipe away her tears and carry on. She managed to successfully overthrow the doctors and take over the asylum for herself, claiming it as her own and turning it into a castle in which neither she nor any of the other inmates would never leave. Before, they had been trapped inside the asylum because of the doctors. Now they remained inside because of choice.

That one change, though small, was what made the difference between a prison and a sanctuary. That one little detail, that one little choice, meant the whole world to all of them. Never before had they been blessed with such power over their own lives. To have this choice about whether or not to stay, even though they did all ultimately choose to do so, was what made them feel truly free. They were still in the asylum, but this time, they had the choice, and that was where true female empowerment lay: choice. And although Thompson had not been around to see Emily and her friends find this victory, she still did attribute a little bit of it to him, the last of her anger against him finally turning into forgiveness as the asylum welcomed in a new era... and a new queen.

"Ah! Thank you, Sir Edward!" Emily thanked her closest rat companion as he and several others dragged in a newspaper for Emily to read. Because no one left the asylum anymore, their only word on the outside world was whatever the rats brought back with them. The rats were the only ones who ever left the asylum anymore. It had been like this, them bringing news from the outside to Emily, for years now.

"T'was my pleasure, my queen!" Sir Edward bowed deeply and Emily chuckled. His chivalry and courtliness never got old, no matter how long he did this. She watched him and the other rats retreat into the shadows with a fond smile before she turned her attention to the paper.

Hmmmm, it looked relatively new. It was titled "Goddess Save the King", an amusing and gender-flipped play on the old phrase every proper English-person (male or female) knew all too well. Emily chuckled at it. The byline read "Charlotte Woolf".

"Well, Ms. Woolf," Emily spoke to the paper. "I think I like you already!" and her opinion for this woman only grew the longer and longer she read the paper. The whole thing was women-centric. All the news and stories were about women, and best of all, it was all about normal women. It wasn't about the pretty princesses or far-off queens of the world, it was about normal girls just like Emily (or at least, semi-normal, in her case). Intrigued by the paper, Emily read it "cover to cover", so to speak, and absorbed every little last letter. It was not very well-made in a physical sense, but the content was so amazing that Emily considered it 10 times more valuable than England's most prestigious paper.

It was on the back of that paper, however, that Emily made a shocking discovery. She found a picture of the creator of this feminist newspaper. It wasn't the woman that really caught Emily's eye, however. It was the caption under her photo, which accredited the image to one of the paper's oldest workers. Emily read the name aloud with a gasp.

"Thompson!" Emily wasted no time in writing a letter to the new paper, begging for a swift reply.

Although it took awhile, Emily did eventually get a response, but it did not come in the form of a letter. Instead...

"Emily! You have a guest!" one of Emily's fellow inmates alerted about a week after she'd sent the letter.

"A guest?" Emily asked. "Send her in!"

"Not her," the girl replied with a strange smile. "Him," but before Emily could ask what that meant, the girl had run down the hall again, leaving Emily alone in her office once more. But she would not remain alone for much longer. Not when the "Him" entered the room.

"Emily?" he asked.

"...Thompson..." was all she could say in reply.

It was an awkward reunion, the old friends having not parted on good terms and then having not seen one another in all the years since, but Thompson overcame his personal fears to address Emily in something that was a mix of happiness, respect and urgency.

"Emily," he murmured, still looking like he was, and had seen, a ghost.

"Thompson," Emily repeated, face an unreadable mask. For a moment more, there was only silence. Then Thompson began to speak.

"Emily, I just wanted to say that, I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I wanted you to know that I've been trying to make a difference ever since. It hasn't been easy, and I don't even know if it's been a success, but I've been trying, and I've been missing you every day ever since," he began awkwardly. "And I know mere apologies alone aren't enough, but that's not why I came here. I didn't come here to think that I could make everything alright again through mere apologies alone. Nor did I even come to beg your forgiveness, for I know that I do not deserve and it could never possibly hope to ever obtain it. I merely came to explain myself, in person, because your letter asked for me and I think it only right and fair that I be the one to answer your call. And I wanted to answer like this, face to face, not through a back-and-forth game of letters. You deserve better than that. You deserve better than a coward's answer, so if you will permit me, I would be honored to tell you what I can. No excuses, just explanations..." and Emily, despite all her past reserves about Thompson, was intrigued enough by this introduction to agree.

For the next hour, Thompson told his story. Apparently, after waking up from the chloroform, Thompson was formally kicked out of the asylum by Dr. Stockhill himself. Although Stockhill had wanted to kill Thompson, because Thompson had a rich and famous father, he knew that killing Thompson would not be something he could get away with. Instead, he only told Thompson that if he ever set foot on asylum ground again, he would be charged for trespassing. He was no longer a friend to this place, and he was legally forbidden from every making contact with anyone inside the gates ever again, especially Emily. Stockhill had been far too happy when he told Thompson he'd never see her again, and all the other doctors had grinned twistedly as Thompson was formally ejected from the building, the gates slammed and locked behind him.

Following that incident, Thompson was finally fired from his job. But again, being the son of a rich and famous man, it didn't take Thompson more than a few months to find a new job. He was still a photographer, but this time for one of the moderate newspapers circulating London at the time. No more "art" photos for him! But as he worked with the paper, he began to learn how to be a journalist and reporter in his own right and there reached a time when he finally initiated a project that would lead to the creation of the paper Emily had found.

What started off as a simple column for women to speak their minds grew into its own paper that became "Goddess Save the King". By this logic, Thompson was technically the creator of that paper, but he refused to take credit for it. In his eyes, though he had created and written the paper, all the info that went into it had come from women. All that credit went to the women whose voices filled his paper to get it off the ground in the first place. This was a woman's paper, not a man's. For that reason, he refused to ever take credit as the paper's creator or owner. Instead, he only saw himself as a writer and photographer. It was Ms. Charlotte Woolf who took that job and title. She had been the second most active in the paper behind Thompson himself and when he came to her, telling her he'd created a paper and wanted her to take over, she'd said yes in a flash. He'd been her worker ever since, and that had been about a year ago. One long, but happy, year ago.

And that had been his life ever since, helping these women write their stories and get them made. Using his father's fame and fortune, Thompson managed to get their paper a healthy batch of readers. Sure, it was wildly controversial and there was a lot of fighting, both in and outside of the group, about the paper's existence but, overall, it had a successful run. Then, one normal day, a letter had come from the boss herself. She handed it to Thompson, saying that although it was addressed to her, it was really more directed at him. He had been confused until he read the name on the headline: Emily, leader of the Asylum For Wayward Victorian Girls. After that, he had taken the fastest transport he could and come straight here to the asylum, leading to right now.

"And that's my story," Thompson finished awkwardly, unable to meet Emily's eyes. "So as you can see, I have made some small progress into the man you wanted me to be, the man we both know I should've been long ago. I know it's still not enough to atone for my sins, but like I said, that isn't why I came here. I didn't come here to brag, or plead, or deal. Just to tell. And now I have..." Thompson trailed off, an indicator that Emily was supposed to reply. For a moment, she could only stare at him, mind reeling from the epic tale Thompson had just told her. Maybe it wasn't anywhere near as intense and exciting as all that she had gone through, but that didn't matter to her.

Instead, all Emily was hearing was that Thompson hadn't just admitted to his crimes, but that he had been actively working to amend them despite all the challenges in his way. Sure, being a rich guy meant that some of the struggles weren't too hard for him to overcome, but to hear him say that he was using some of his power and privilege to empower others, and all without expecting some sort of award, was what really caught Emily's ear. When she finally thought of something to say, it was only

"Oh, Thompson! How I've missed you!" but in those few words, Thompson understood everything.

Then, in the years to come, the two managed to iron out their differences and create the legacy that they had always wanted to. Thompson connected Emily with Charlotte and, in something of a business merger, the asylum and the paper joined forces. Both locations had a section all to themselves and they used their combined resources to spread the word. The paper dealt not only with the lives, voices, stories and struggles of women, but also of all the politics surrounding all aspects of their lives. Thanks to the asylum, the paper was really able to start getting off the ground, and Thompson was the one to help it all connect together.

Through paper, picture and even the occasional diplomat, the asylum became a political breeding ground for a new viewpoint on the old ways of living. Emily, Thompson, Charlotte and the others both inside the asylum and out advertised a new way of living, especially for women. But they also challenged men too, not just about the issue of treating women as humans, but to see how sexism negatively impacted their lives as well. Emily had finally begun to see that patriarchy even poisoned men, as it had done to Thompson, so Emily wasn't just reaching out to a strictly female audience. She was even daring the men to join her at her side.

"Even if you're only a boy, you can fight like a girl!" one of her articles had read. It really was a revolutionary writing. Although the paper never exactly became world-renowned, or even country-renowned, it did reach a nice, large audience and that was more than enough for Emily, Thompson, Charlotte and everyone else on board with the paper.

"Well, Thompson, you actually did it," Emily smiled at him one night as they celebrated the third anniversary of their combined paper's existence. They were sitting on the asylum roof, stargazing. Below, the asylum inmates were celebrating with the rest of the news crew employed by Charlotte. Thompson had brought them all over for a party night in honor of the paper's long-lasting success.

"Not without your help," he replied happily, looking much happier than he had when he and Emily first reconnected all those years ago.

"Perhaps," Emily agreed cheekily. "But your photos have finally done some good, finally opened some eyes, finally got the conversation started. I have to thank you for that," she looked him right in the eye and he knew it was her way of apologizing for how she'd just let him he dragged away all those years and years ago.

"Only if I can thank you for helping me find the courage to do. You never stopped being my muse even though we've been apart for so long," he replied. It was his way of forgiving her for that day. Emily nodded to that, touched by the fact that she had continued to inspire him for so long.

Then Thompson pulled something out of his pocket.

"By the way," he said. "I've got something else that could really start a conversation, but that's only if you'll allow," he opened the box. A diamond ring. For a moment, there was only silence.

"So, no conversation then?" he asked embarrassedly. "That's ok, I don't-" but before he could finish his statement, Emily had shouted loud enough for all of England to hear.

"YES!" and that story was perhaps the biggest one their newspaper ever cooked up.

**AN: More Emily/Thompson because I NEEEEEEEEEEEEED IT! **

**Also, Charlotte Woolf is a painfully uncreative reference to Charlotte Bronte and Virginia Woolf. **

**And yes, this is Book Canon. A happy sequel where my OTP is reunited and become a happy feminist couple because THEY DESERVED BETTER!**


End file.
